


Cigarettes and Chocolate

by Priamparamparam



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M, Like REALLY fast burn, Multi, fast burn, idk how to tag ok its 1:06 am, shit happens, smut in the second chapter, some steamyness, we speedrunning enemies to possible lovers, you mow down spy in your car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:46:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26155189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priamparamparam/pseuds/Priamparamparam
Summary: Being a careless driver in the dead of night causes you to accidentally mow down a certain spindly Mercenary taking a 'vacation'. Full of shame and the need to return the knife he accidentally left at the scene of the hit, you visit him in the hospital to find that you're the ONLY one who visited him.
Relationships: Blu Spy/Reader, Spy (Team Fortress 2)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 56





	Cigarettes and Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> BEFORE YOU READ,
> 
> just know I'm adding a second smut chapter. After that, I'll probably be done.
> 
> If you follow my account, you might realize I name all my TF2 fics after songs!
> 
> hmu @falk-hcs if you wanna :)

Teufort was a nasty city. Dusty, dirty, nothing like the wonderful city of Paris. A tight, pissed-off expression pinched Spy’s face. Of course he was stuck in Teufort for a week. In an act of sheer idiocy, someone had left it up to Scout to tell Spy that they were going to be taking a plane to take a vacation. The sly man had effectively been abandoned, and was stuck in a shit hotel, with not even a car to his name. 

‘Have a good time my ass,’ he thought to himself as he remembered what Engie had politely told him over the phone when the miscommunication was found out. He lurked around the streets, suit jacket slung over one shoulder and a burning cigarette hanging from the left side of his mouth. The handsome rogue had forgone his mask, opting to stuff it in a pocket instead of keeping it on. It was pretty much 1am as he trudged back to his room, ever so slightly inebriated on the best whiskey he could find in town. Just enough to feel a light buzz in the back of his skull, nothing more.

Of course, the was so focused on getting home that as he trudged across a road, he foolishly didn’t look for any oncoming cars.

While Spy may have been having a pretty shitty night, you were having a much worse one. You worked as a bartender in one of the local pubs, and of course some shitty travelers came by and heckled you for free drinks. You barely slept at all last night, and your payday got delayed by a week, so you’d likely be going a bit hungry. All around, you were just...not having it.

At least you finally got off your shift, hauling yourself into your car that was struggling to run. After a couple desperate tries of revving up the engine, the damned thing finally spluttered to life with a rattle and a cough. Pulling out onto the silent roads, you let your mind wander as you drove along, putting on some pleasant old music that crackled in your radio. 

Finally. A chance to unwind. Your shoulders lowered and your face relaxed as you stared out your windshield, going on autopilot. Considering it was 1am and no one should be awake and wandering the streets without a companion. Throwing your wheel to the right, you slowed and took a sharp turn before speeding up some. However, a loud thump and a rolling sound tore you from your peaceful stupor.

Of fucking course you had to flatten some idiotic civvie just trying to go somewhere. Today of all days. Hopping out of your car in a panic, a man with salt-and-pepper hair streaked grey laid facedown on the asphalt. An expensive silken jacket and a pack of cigarettes, along with a pristinely clean, folded-up butterknife surrounded him.

“Oh...oh fuck,” you cringed as you saw the older gentlemen. “Sir? Sir, are you okay?” You rushed to his side, kneeling by his left side and pressing a hand to his side to roll him over. As you pressed down, he wheezed painfully, pulling his head up and shooting you a violent glare through icy blue eyes.  
On his own, he rolled over onto his back, touching his ribs. “Merde…” he hissed, face tensing up in pain. “I-I can give you a ride to the hospital!” you offered desperately, trying to keep the attention of the handsome man to make sure he wasn’t dying or anything. Bearing suprisingly white teeth, he bored his eyes into you once more and snarled in a French accent “I don’t have healthcare, imbécile!” You blinked, and then rubbed your chin, before panicking. “Uh, I-I’ll call an ambulance and pay for your bills if you don’t sue!” You were mostly afraid of getting charged with vehicular manslaughter, so the last part was mostly a plea instead.

You paced around in circles as you rang up an ambulance from a nearby payphone, chewing your nails as you watched him. He seemed alive enough, he even sat up and rubbed his eyes but didn’t get up. You weren’t quite why he stuck around; either he was in too much pain to walk away, or he just really wanted you to pay for his medical pills. Didn’t matter.

Soon enough, an ambulance for the Teufort local hospital trundled it. It, suprisingly, didn’t have any sirens, but maybe because it was the dead of night and Teufort was a quiet city at night. As you found out, he could stand up, and when some paramedics approached him. He grunted and stumbled up, before being ushered into the hospital bed. You were approached by a police officer that had come along with. She questioned you, and you told the truth, as much as you didn’t want to. Of course, you had pay for his bills.

Soon enough, the ambulance booked it to the hospital to get the man cleaned up. Numbly, you stood by your open car door, thinking about the man you hit. He had picked up his jacket and cigarettes, but he left his knife. Sighing, you picked up the knife and stuffed it in your pocket before clambering in your car and finishing your drive home. You would drop his knife off tomorrow morning, as well as likely give the man some gifts as an extra apology. If you could manage it, you’d pay off his medical bill with some of the money you had stashed away for emergencies.

Eventually you got home, went to bed, and slept decently. The next morning you crawled out of bed, and set about getting ready. Showering, drying and brushing your hair, getting dressed, eating a breakfast of some crackers you found. Once properly prepared for your day, you picked up the butterfly knife. It seemed well-worn, but the blade was clean. Dried gunk rested in the nail rivets, a dark red color that you decided not to think about too much. Probably just from a mishap.

Grabbing your keys and wallet, you shoved all three into your pocket before exiting your flat, locking the door securely behind you. Before getting in your car, you checked it over for dents. It was unsurprising that the handsome fellow you flattened didn’t make a scratch, considering he was twig-like in stature.

You paused, trailing your fingers over around where you pummeled the poor fellow. He was… memorable. Something about his gaunt face, with its five-o-clock shadow, and high cheekbones was so...alluring. Swallowing thickly, you realized you were plagued with lingering thoughts of a man you mowed down. Chewing your bottom lip, you threw yourself into the car and slammed the door behind you. Again, your car took a couple revs to properly get working but you managed to shift it into gear. 

The drive to your tiny local grocery store was short. You hopped out, and entered the store, giving a nod to the exhausted-looking cashier, who returned it. While you were familiar with them and had a bit of a bond, it was shallow and mostly sprouted from midnight store runs.

You breezed past them, going into the chocolate isle. What would a man who looked as refined and proper as he looked like? He took you for the sort of fellow who liked dark chocolate, but…. Giving up, you shook your head and picked up a heart-shaped package that contained white, milk, and dark chocolate. Then, you moved on to other isles, picking up a package of cigarettes that looked similar to the one that had fallen from his pocket at the accident.

Once finished, you smilled to yourself with satisfaction and approached the cashier. She raised her brows at you. “I never took you for the kind of person who’d bring a pack of cigs to the first date,” she murmured, more confused than snotty or invasive. Caught in surprise, you went silent as you handed over the money, before spluttering out “Oh! U-uh, no, these are for a guy I hit with my car-” You weren’t able to finish, before the cashier broke out into a laugh.

“You’re trying to seduce a guy you hospitalized?”

“N-no!”

“A heart box of chocolates? You can’t convince me,” she snarked, waving the box in front of you with a giggle.

“Ugh...just gimmie my change,” you snapped back, holding out a palm. While the smug smile never left her face, she handed seventy-three cents back to you. “Hope your date goes well,” she sneered as you exited the building.

The blush was hot and harsh on your cheeks as you screeched out of the parking lot, cutting off an elderly woman as you hauled ass to the local hospital. Traffic was alright, so it didn’t take you too long to get there. However, that didn’t stop it from feeling like forever; hopefully he’d accept your apology and gifts with open hands. It would be a big issue for you emotionally if he held a grudge against you.

Screeching to a halt into a parking spot, you clambered out and picked up the bag you had shoved all this mystery man’s shit into. Strutting into the hospital lobby, a receptionist looked up at you. Outwardly, you calmly explained the situation of what went on. It seemed suspicious to you that you were going into the hospital room of a man you didn’t know with a bag, but the receptionist was too tired to care.

So, he just told you the room number of the man who matched the criteria you rattled off, and you skipped off on your way. Room 305. As you approached the room, a doctor walked out, tucking her clipboard under one arm. Her face grew perplexed as she saw you walking towards his door, and checked against her clipboard before shrugging and knocking on the door.

“Scout, I told you you shouldn’t come to visit, it would be suspicious!” spat that recognizeable French voice. He sounded agitated, but a little happy at the same time. Confused, because you were very much not this ‘Scout’ he spoke of, you opened the door just a little and peeked in. You saw him lounging in a bed, a cast around his left leg and a bandage around his head. There were likely more, but you just couldn’t see them due to the blanket and hospital gown that covered his body.

He was staring out the window over the city before he turned to you and stiffened at the sight of you. In his head, you were vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t remember you exactly, so he was unsure. “Who are you?” he inquired in a low, dangerous tone. Swallowing thickly, you shuffled out more into view, still holding the bag. 

“I-eh-er-”

“Spit it out.”

“I w-was the one who got you here… you left a knife on the road,” you all but whimpered, holding your bag behind you as you tucked your arms back. ‘Uh, and I wanted to bring some apology gifts.” After a thick silence, you managed to force your eyes up to make eye contact, once again jarred by the intensity of his blue stare. Instead of angry, he seemed very, very suspicious. 

“So you aren’t some filthy whelp hired by RED to come and poison me while I’m in the hospital?” His tone made him sound like an interrigator, and you shuffled back a little in surprise. “N-no? Who the fuck is RED…?” Seemingly unintrested in answering your question but satisfied by your answer, he beckoned you closer to him. Following his command, you shuffled forward and sat down next to him, on a little stool. While he looked a little weirded-out, he didn’t stop you and instead held out a hand to you. “My knife, please.”

You dropped the thing in his palm, carefully folded up. Holding the thing up close to his face, he inspected it closely and let out an affirmative grunt, before placing it on his bedside table. “You said you brought other things?” he snapped, holding out his hand again. Rooting around until your fingertips graced the packaging, you whipped out the cigarette pack like excalibur. He seemed genuinely surprised, and he turned the pack over and over in his hands.

“How’d you know I smoke?” His tone was tense, waiting for you to say something incriminating. “Well, you dropped another pack when I hit you, so..” you shrugged. “I can give them to someone else if those cigarettes weren’t yours, though.”

“Non, non, I do smoke.” He placed that package beside his knife, before grunting to you. “The fact that you came to bring my knife back is enough. I’ll pay for my medical bill. And by your clothing, you clearly can’t really spare the money,” he murmured, rolling his eyes. Anger twitched your face, before he let out a low giggle at his own apparent joke.

It didn’t hurt your feelings, but it did piss you off enough to pucker your lips and furrow your brow. “Well, alright, be like that. I guess you don’t get the last thing I brought,” you stood up and stepped away, before he suddenly leaned up and caught your wrist in a surprisingly calloused hand. 

“Wait! Get back here, you don’t get to walk out. You were the one who wasn’t watching where they were going in the middle of the night. You can handle an insult or two,” he reasoned. As much as you hated to agree with him, you kind of had to agree. Making a show of rolling your eyes and sighing, you sat back down. He laughed once again, but this time he snorted once.

Such a wonderful laugh. It didn’t match him, at least not the snorting. His laugh was a perfectly normal ‘pompous french man’ laugh, with a dash of evil laughter. But… his snorts were undeniably cute. You, too, broke out into a laugh, although he probably assumed you were laughing at the same thing he was. No, you were laughing at the giddy feeling that had bubbled up in your chest when he touched your wrist.

“Now, what was the final thing you brought?” By the random pet name he grumbled, he seemed to have warmed up to you a decent amount, leaning forward a little. You pulled out the heart box, slowly, timidly, before handing it over to him. “Uh…” he grunted, looking it over before sending you a look.

“It’s not what it looks like, I promise!”

“It’s not?”

“Or, well, it probably isn’t-” you started, staring at the ceiling for a second to collect your nerves before looking back at him. However, he wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he was marveling at the heart box. It wasn’t even that high-quality chocolate. Good, sure, but not worthy of the bedazzled expression that shone in his eyes. His thumbs stroked over the cardboard, before he steeled his expression once more.

“I can tell it’s not.” He pulled at the bow that held the lid on, and examined the assortment. “Ah...dark chocolate. The best.” He plucked one up and popped it in his mouth, letting out an appreciative mumble. After a couple chews, he swallowed the rich morsel. “Nothing like Paris’ chocolateiers, but good for Australian make,” he said, and you sneered. “Don’t believe me?” You shook your head, amused but annoyed at his cocky attitude. Seeming to give up and move on, he inquired “What type of chocolate do you like best?” One hand waved over the three; dark, milk, and white.

You told him your favorite, and he picked up one. You held out your hand, assuming he was just to drop it into your palm. But no, he leaned up slightly from his hospital bed, and held it up to your mouth. Confused, you blinked at him, until he pressed the treat to your lips. “Go on,” he jeered, a smug smile twisting on his face. He knew you’d never do it.

But he didn’t know that, he just thought he did. In an attempt to overshadow this cocky bastard, you tucked your hair behind your ears politely and just bit it straight from his fingers. Your soft lips brushed his fingertips, and you felt him tense up as you pulled away, placing a hand in front of your mouth as you chewed.

“Cherie…” he grumbled, eyes narrowed but brows arched. He was sadistic; all too often he got great amusement out of jeering and teasing others. But you suprised him, enough for him to slip into the affectionate names of his native tongue.

Of course, you immediately grew embarrassed and coughed into your elbow, leaning back just a little. “Er-anyway,” you whimpered, staring at the floor at the sudden tension. “I’m glad that makes up for this. Uh- what’s your name, by the way? I forgot to ask last night.”

“Spy.”

“Huh?”

“My name is Spy. Or, well, you can call me Spy.”

Nodding slowly, but incredibly confused nonetheless, you continued on. “Well, Spy, it was good meeting you. Uh, what happened when I hit you?”

“Nothing too bad. Sprained ankle, cut on the forehead. Two fractured ribs, but they can’t do much about that,” he explained nonchalantly, which worried you just a bit. How often did he have to deal with this sort of pain?

“I’m getting out tomorrow afternoon.”

“They’re letting you out that early?”

He scoffed at the mention of ‘them’. “Merde, no way. But that’s not stopping me from getting out.” What kind of maniac broke out of a hospital? “I have a couple...friends who are going to be picking me up from the gas station on the edge of town.” 

You were pretty sure him breaking out was illegal, but mama didn’t raise no snitch, so you didn’t plan to say anything. As much as you wanted to say, you looked at the clock and noticed your shift was coming up. “Eh, well, Spy, it was great to meet you. It’s a shame we won’t meet again, but I’ve got to go to work.”

An adorable pout came over him as he watched you stand, but once again his hand launched forward to clasp your wrist. Only gently did he pull you towards him, which you followed. “Oh, Cherie, but I like you quite a lot. Not everyone brings a man like me chocolates.” There was a dangerous, mysterious edge to his words, causing you to swallow and meet his gaze. “I think this turned out to be a lot more what it looked like than you though…” he whispered into your ear, teasing your earlier actions. 

“I’d very much like to see you again, cherie. May I?” He titled his head and leaned in just a little, eyelids fluttering as you felt his light, oddly minty breath fan across your lower face. Intoxicated by the temptation, you captured his lips in a quick kiss, before pulling back with wide eyes. Spy was pleased as punch, releasing your wrist and grabbing a notepad. He scribbled a number on it in lightning speed, before holding it out to you.

A phone number. “Cherie, call me with this number tomorrow eve, any time after nine. If I do not pick up, simply ask for Spy. I’d love to get in touch again. I could even show you the wonders of French chocolate, maybe?”

His voice was low and luxurious, and you couldn’t help but take the slip and tighten your fist. “O-oh, uh, of course! I’d- love to!” you practically whimpered, before shoving the slip in your pocket and retreating to the door. “I’ll call you then!”

It was weird how alluring he looked in that bed, you could only imagine what he looked like fully dressed in that smart suit you’d seen him the first day. Holding up one hand, he waggled his fingers goodbye. 

“I can’t wait to see you again, Cherie~” he purred, sending a wink as the door clicked shut.


End file.
